


A New Muse

by F0rt_Fr0lic



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Gay Male Character, Homosexuality, M/M, OC, Oc/Canon ship, Oneshot, Rapture (BioShock), Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F0rt_Fr0lic/pseuds/F0rt_Fr0lic
Summary: A small fic centered around the first meeting between Aldwin and Cohen.I wanted to keep it as in character as possible~! I might write more~Cohen was fun as hell to write!Keep in mind I wrote this back in 2017 but yeah it's a small oneshot!





	A New Muse

"No, no, NO!" A voice rang out from the stage. Already this felt like a bad Idea to the young man as he peeked in, only to see two auditioners get electrocuted and thrown off the stage. He shuddered at the thought of blowing this audition. This could result in an unfortunate ending and the start of a miserable life. The artist growled, throwing the canvas across the stage in a fit of rage. "NEXT!" Sander Cohen seethed as he slammed a new canvas down on the easel. Oh, no he was upset... Wait, did he say next? With a small gasp, he ran onto the stage, carefully setting his portfolio down. "H-Here, Mr. Cohen, I-I'm next..." he stammered meekly. Cohen's eyes seemed to light up when he saw him. "You came alone?" he pried. "No matter, I'm sure I'll find a way to make it work, Mister...?" He trailed off, waiting for a response. "Oh! W-Williams, sir. Aldwin Williams." the thin man stuttered. He felt flushed. It was rude of him not to introduce himself right off the bat.

"Well Mister...Williams.." he purred, in an unsettlingly smooth voice compared to the voice he used before; loud and full of rage, whilst this tone was soft, smooth, and very pleasing to the ear. He was an odd looking man with a waxed mustache, a small cleft chin, and pancaked makeup. He had a stocky body, covered in paint. He had brown, thinning hair combed back in two strands that came down into two curls. Cohen smiled as he walked over to inspect the newcomer before him. "You're an odd one, aren't you, little moth?" he said, walking around him. Aldwin, on the other hand, was smaller and thinner than Cohen. His black hair was combed back as well, but he had a rather large forehead. Aldwin had very prominent cheekbones and a pointed, crooked nose, making him look like a bird. His eyes were droopy; the whites were stained yellow, while the irises were bright green. His smile had to be the oddest part about him, Aldwin bared sharp pointed yellow teeth. Two whole rows of them in fact!

"Yeeeesssss, quite an interesting specimen indeed. For this, I shall be your partner. You have a certain quality I need to feel for myself." He chuckled, carefully placing his arm around Aldwin's waist, holding his hand with the other. "FITZPATRICK, THE MUSIC!!!" he bellowed. The spotlight SNAPPED on, and Tchaikovsky's Waltz of The Flowers played as the floor sprang to life. They began to dance in synchronization. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. It seemed almost perfect. "Yes, yes, this is good, good! Keep going!" Cohen said, giggling with excitement. Aldwin could feel his face flushing. He was blushing, wasn't he? Oh god, he was, he was! Cohen could clearly see it. He let his mind get the best of him and messed up his footing as he stumbled slightly. He was soon snapped back into reality by a loud "FITZPATRICK, CUT THE MUSIC!!!" He jolted and looked at Cohen, his eyes widened with fear. "We were almost perfect!! ALMOST PERFECT!!" he sobbed grabbing Aldwin's Cheeks and chin forcing him to make eye contact. Bright red, he looked directly into the artist's brown eyes. They were quite enchanting, so dark and full of passion. "Once more, from the top." he hissed.

"FITZPATRICK, THE MUSIC!" He said, roughly grabbing Aldwin once more, resuming the dance. Focus, focus! he thought as he concentrated on the artist. Cohen was now driven by perfection. He NEEDED to make this perfect. He longed for this. He could feel it in they way he moved and looked. He was the one; his new project, his own canvas. Cohen had the idea of remaking his newfound apprentice in his image. They soon wrap up the waltz, with no blunders this time. "Aahh, yeeees, yes, perfect!" he smiled, as the softness returned once again. "FITZPATRICK, TAKE DOWN THE ADS!! I've found him. I've found my canvas... and my muse."


End file.
